


Anatomy of a Shanking

by actizera (kitestringer)



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-01
Updated: 2004-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7542325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitestringer/pseuds/actizera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you want to airhole someone, it's helpful to approach the situation methodically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anatomy of a Shanking

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal for Hardtime 100 Flash Fiction Challenge #5: The Plot Thickens.

Oswald State Correctional Facility burns through paper at a rate that might surprise those unfamiliar with government bureaucracy. Even the most insignificant procedure requires the filing of a multitude of forms, each xeroxed in triplicate. Increased dependence on computers hasn't yet eliminated the need for paper forms; it simply has ensured that much of the information on those forms is available in an additional place—a place that even an inmate might be able to reach, given sufficient access to the prison's intranet server.  
  
An example of the type of information stored in the prison intranet is the inventory log. There's been talk of centralizing such records on a statewide basis; at present, however, the system for recording inventory is a simple matter of writing the information on a form and then inputting it into a computer spreadsheet, (theoretically) to be compared monthly with the items actually stored on the prison's shelves, to avoid any scandal involving employees taking advantage of prison supplies for their personal use.  
  
Among those items ordered frequently are, as one might expect, boxes of multipurpose copy paper. A standing order for ten boxes of it and other office supplies arrives early each month, usually on the first Monday, when (most often sometime in the early afternoon) it's unloaded from the truck and left in the loading-bay area until the next prison work shift begins.  
  
In Oz, there are three inmates whose primary job is to deal with the inventorying and distribution of nonfood supplies:  
  
Prisoner number 95B461, Stanley Bishop. Pushing the upper bounds of middle age, intelligent and generally cooperative with the prison authorities, likely to receive early parole for good behavior. Has a bad back that's been giving him trouble for years, ever since a cab hit him as he fled the scene of the robbery that resulted in his incarceration. Handles some of the lighter lifting but primarily takes care of the recording of inventory.  
  
Prisoner number 98W258, Joe Bob Warner. Was recently involved in a serious altercation with two Latinos and a 10-lb dumbbell in the gym. Currently under observation at Benchley Memorial Hospital with potentially life-threatening head injuries.  
  
Prisoner number 98K514, Christopher Keller. Since prison authorities apparently weren't inclined to give him a job that involved lying, maiming, and destroying people's lives, Keller was instead employed in a way that makes use of his other primary talent: lifting heavy things. Unless someone is assigned to replace Joe Bob within the next few days, Keller should be spending most of Tuesday morning in the storage room, unpacking and shelving, among other things, copy paper.  
  
Sister Peter Marie takes a coffee break every morning at precisely 10:00. This break generally lasts between 20 and 30 minutes, an amount of time that could conceivably allow you to leave, complete your task, and make it back before she returns. It is important that you not rely on that, however. Leave a brief note on her desk blotter that reads as follows: "Gone to pick up files from Dr. N—back in a minute. T." This wording is vague enough to leave her with the impression that you have been notified, in her absence, of files that require retrieval from the infirmary, something that is far from an uncommon occurrence. No one who sees you en route is likely to assume that anything is out of the ordinary, since you are routinely entrusted with such responsibilities.  
  
The basement storage complex has several means of entrance but only two that are both convenient and accessible from parts of the prison that aren't off-limits to inmates. There are also several air ducts that lead into the room—but this is, of course, real life and not _Mission: Impossible_.  
  
One of the entrances is particularly convenient for someone who works in Sister Pete's office during the day; door to door, the duration of the walk is ~4 minutes if you're able to maintain a leisurely pace that is unlikely to draw attention. Note that the door to the room clicks once, loudly, as it is opened. Inside, however, the size of the room, as well as the labyrinthine distribution of tall shelves and stacks of boxes, makes sound carry deceptively, and it's difficult to discern the origin of any of the various noises one hears. An additional advantage of this particular door is that it is blocked completely from the view of anyone in the part of the room in which office supplies are stored. This allows a preliminary reconnaissance without necessarily revealing your identity to people who might unexpectedly be in the area. As mind-numbingly regular as the routine in Oz may be, unforeseen twists are never outside the realm of possibility.  
  
There are several effective hiding places throughout the storage room, but only one provides almost immediate access to someone in the office supply area. It's a place no light reaches, a narrow space between one of the taller shelves and the wall. It can be reached, without too great a chance of detection, even if there are people already in that part of the room, especially if you remove your shoes to muffle the sound of your footsteps. Once in place, all that's left is to wait for the right moment to move in and attack.  
  
Even if the target hasn't detected your presence in the room prior to the moment that you make your presence known, the possibility still exists that he might be able to identify you once you've closed the distance between you and are putting a shank in his back. Keep him in a tight hold, because you might not injure him severely enough, at least initially, to prevent him from turning and recognizing you. A less obvious consideration is the possibility that he will be able to identify you in some other way—by smell, for instance. The particular person in question may have, on several occasions, buried his face in your hair and inhaled deeply or lovingly handled your sweat-soaked clothes, in which case it would be prudent to mask your smell to some extent, possibly by showering with a different brand of soap and/or smoking an illicit cigarette in a confined space prior to entering the storage room.  
  
It's important not to spend too much time savoring the moment that the blade slides home through the muscles between his ribs—treacherous muscles though they may be, connecting ribs that support viscera that are surely destined to be roasted slowly over a spit in Hell for eternity, you must resist this temptation and instead exit the room as quickly as possible. Slip your shoes back on, take off your outer t-shirt and use it to wipe any blood off your hand. Wrap the shank in the shirt and conceal it inside a small red biohazard bag (available from either the infirmary or the northeast corner of the storage room), stuff it in your pocket or down your pants, and attempt to resume a normal breathing pattern as you head to the infirmary. Wait outside the door until you're confident that you won't be noticed, quietly walk inside, and slip the bag into the large medical-waste container that stands just inside the doorway. Once the weapon has been discarded, approach Dr. Nathan and ask for the files you had been told to pick up for Sister Pete. When she (busy woman that she is) impatiently informs you that she has no such files, give her a look of mild confusion, nod agreeably, and return to Sister Pete's office. If the situation permits, it would be wise to stop in the bathroom and wash your hands on the way.  
  
Act as naturally as possible throughout the remainder of the morning. It may take anywhere from a few minutes to an hour or more before anything out of the ordinary is discovered in the storage room. The first you're likely to hear of it will be through word of mouth in the cafeteria during lunch. Appear surprised, but not too surprised. After all, one doesn't cross the Aryans without consequence, a fact to which so many people surely can attest.  
  
Preserve your customary air of mild indifference as long as there are other people in the vicinity. There will undoubtedly be no shortage of inmates wanting to gossip about today's "airholing" in the storage room; it would not be wise to seem either too eager or too reluctant to discuss it. Remember that all of Emerald City is aware of your relationship—both past and current—with the victim, and behave accordingly.  
  
Remain patient and remember: soon enough, you will have ample opportunity to reflect on your accomplishment, beginning with evening lockdown. The total silence in your pod will provide a favorable atmosphere for contemplating the completion of this, the most recent phase of your much-deserved revenge. Think of this and only this, and clear your mind of any other (potentially bothersome) considerations, which can only prove counterproductive. In your current condition, you are unlikely to be considered seriously as a suspect in any ensuing investigation. In addition, in a larger moral sense, you have merely seen true justice done, and, as anyone of your professional training is all too aware, the meting out of justice can be a brutal thing. Brutal, yet necessary. In point of fact, any suffering you've inflicted on Chris Keller is likely to be miniscule in comparison with the suffering he has undoubtedly inflicted on others. So relax with an entirely clear conscience, relish your success, and allow yourself to drift into a worriless sleep, one that is certain to be more peaceful than any you've had in recent memory.


End file.
